So That’s How Nellie Did It

When Don Nelson played for the Lakers in the early 60s, he was the world’s biggest geek. Downright ponderous and awkward by NBA standards, he looked hopelessly out of place alongside Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Tommy Hawkins and even Rudy La Russo. I followed the team and saw a few games at the L.A. Sports Arena back then, and when Nelson left after two uninspiring years, nobody in town gave it a second thought. He surely was on his way to oblivion.

The very next season, virtually overnight, Nelson was a key member of the 1965-66 world champion Boston Celtics. His minutes-played total had jumped from 238 to 1765. Coach Red Auerbach recognized immediately that Nelson was a player of unusual intelligence, a big forward who could rebound, shoot reliably from medium range, play defense and work seamlessly into the Celtics’ system.

Nelson hit the biggest shot of his career in Bill Russell‘s last game, launching a jump shot (if you could call it that) that bounced straight up off the back rim and fell in, clinching Game 7 of the 1969 Finals in Los Angeles. But he really blossomed after Russell had left. By the time Dave Cowens, John Havlicek and JoJo White ruled the Celtics, winning championships in 1974 and ’76, Nelson was an invaluable reserve who generally played every minute of crunch time. He appeared to have the largest hands ever seen on a court, palming the basketball effortlessly in one hand as he sought a target on inbounds passes. And he was a genius at the up-fake, getting his defender into the air and then going up for what would surely be a two-shot foul, if not a three-point play.

Out of nowhere, broadcaster Tom Heinsohn (an All-Star forward in the Russell years) brought this up during a Boston Celtics telecast in New England the other night. “The best up-fake I ever saw was Don Nelson,” said Heinsohn. “He used to use stickum on his hands. He’d have it on a piece of tape in his shorts. He’d put the ball in one hand, palm it, throw it up there, and guys would go for the fake every time.”

I’m sure Heinsohn got a kick out of ribbing his old buddy on television. Nelson must have had the stickum thing down to a science, though. This tactic was wildly popular among NFL receivers (notably Fred Biletnikoff) in the 70s, and they could load up as much of the gooey stuff as they pleased. This is when receivers actually used their brains and caught balls with their bare hands, instead of wearing those absurd gloves for endorsement money.

Think about stickum in basketball, though, particularly when shooting. There’s a fine line between a really good grip and a ball that sticks annoyingly to your hand. Then again, this is vintage Nellie. You never quite know where he’s coming from.

I was able to see that game, incidentally, because I subscribe to DirecTV’s NBA package. This is highly recommended. Unlike football, home of denial (even if you pay for the NFL package, you’re still screwed if the Raiders are blacked out), or baseball, where ludicrous blackouts are a way of life, this is a legitimate NBA package, with virtually every game available (as long as someone is televising it). If you get this package, remember to check its menu on that rare occasion when a Warriors game is not on Bay Area television. It’s likely to be up there.

3-DOTTING: Heard from Ira Miller, once with the Chronicle and still one of the leading authorities on NFL football, regarding the overtime rule. “I told the NFL how to fix the overtime six years ago, and they wouldn’t listen,” he wrote. “I pointed out that, for 20 years, the coin toss did not decide overtime games because there was a balance among offense, defense and special teams — until they screwed around and moved the kickoff line back. That’s what has swung it in favor of the team getting the ball first. It’s an easy fix, but they won’t listen.” Good call, not surprising from Ira, but it still leaves the option of a coin flip, a kickoff returned for a touchdown, and have a nice evening . . . Bay Area sage Doug Kelly suggests a 10-minute overtime with no rules changes, one timeout per team, and if the game remains tied, go to sudden death. That sounds pretty good, but it would upset the network-TV people, who prefer rigid scheduling and the protection of their Sunday-night programming. They wouldn’t be thrilled about any telecast running a half-hour long, or more . . . With all respect to KNBR’s introduction of Roger Craig yesterday as “the greatest running back in 49er history” yesterday, a lot of folks would prefer Hugh McElhenny, a true genius at the evasion of tacklers, and the punishing Joe Perry in the 1950s. Put Craig on a level with those guys, maybe, but never ahead of them.

Keith Law, who writes knowledgeable baseball critiques for espn.com, makes a case for Tim Raines in the Hall of Fame as the second-best leadoff man (behind Rickey Henderson) in history. Raines certainly has strong credentials, but I’d place two men ahead of him: Lou Brock, a wonderful mixture of speed, batting average, power and character, and Maury Wills, who literally changed the game in the late 50s and early 60s by bringing the stolen base back into prominence. Wills had some serious drug problems after he retired from managing, casting him in dubious light among some voters, and his prime lasted just 10 years (1959 through ’68), but I’ve always been disappointed in the Hall voters’ rejection. Maybe you had to be there, as I was, watching Wills countless times at Dodger Stadium as he manufactured precious runs for the Sandy Koufax-Don Drysdale Dodgers. In 1958, the year before Wills broke in, Willie Mays led the National League with 31 steals. He could have had many more, but players stole with caution in those days, doing it only when absolutely necessary to avoid “showing up” the other team. With Wills, on a team lucky to score two runs a game, every steal was a necessity. His 104-steal season in 1962 was nothing short of a revelation, and it changed everyone’s thinking, giving rise to Raines, Brock and so many other stolen-base artists in ensuing years.